


Afterglow

by howardently



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:32:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howardently/pseuds/howardently





	Afterglow

When he comes out of the bathroom, she’s still sprawled, in all her nude glory, in exactly the same position she was in when he pulled out of her ten minutes ago, so he knows he’s done a good job.

She’s still timid about her body, still doesn’t like to be naked when they’re not having sex. So discovering her, half asleep, spread eagled and nude on top of the bed covers is a rare treat, and he congratulates himself on sexing her properly. She’s not even twisted to cover her breasts, doesn’t even have a sheet tangled about her legs. He smiles smugly, it must have been really good for her to completely overcome her insecurity in a haze of post-coital bliss.

He knew it was good while it was happening of course. There’s this little noise she makes, this little whimper, that he can only elicit on certain occasions. He’s obsessed with this noise. He thinks about it with alarming frequency and embarrassment, as it often leads to at least a semi. She’d made that little whimper a lot tonight, and he thinks he even heard a new noise- something like a surprised plea. He’ll file away all his moves from tonight and try them out again in different combinations, see if he can’t get her to make that sound again. He’s learning her, one involuntary noise at a time, and this moment, where he’s loved her so well that she’s able to go beyond herself feels like a victory of sorts.

He stands at her side of the bed and watches her, lets his eyes linger over the curves and valleys of her flesh. He’s so rarely allowed to study her naked form like this, so rarely allowed to take his time just looking at her. It’s perfectly fine by him that she’s still a little insecure, still more comfortable in dim lights and with his hands doing the exploring rather than his eyes. But, she’s so beautiful like this that it’s hard to accept that it might be months before he’s allowed to soak her in like this again.

She’s lying across the middle of the bed the wrong way, a single pillow pulled from its usual spot to cradle her head. Her dark hair is mussed, spread across the sheet in a pool of black satin. Her face is tilted to the side, and one of her hands rests loosely on the pillow next to her cheek. The soft curve of her fingers makes him smile; she’s perfectly relaxed down to her very fingertips. Her eyes are closed and a beautiful flush starts in her cheeks and makes its way down her kiss bruised neck.

His eyes travel past the pink spots on her collarbone where his teeth have just nipped, down to the gorgeous rose of her breasts. They’re two round globes, still awe-inspiring even in her prone state. Her areolas are pebbled, and her nipples are still standing at full attention, sensitive to the chill in the air and from the rough treatment of his fingers and teeth. She has such beautiful breasts, and it’s clear from the irritated skin between them that he loves to rub his face there- she often complains that his stubble is like sandpaper on her sensitive skin. But he loves to see the traces of himself all over her, loves to watch the redness remain on her skin even after the glow of their lovemaking has faded.

Her skin is luminous in the soft light, and his fingers itch to run over it again. He holds back, he wants to be able to look undisturbed for a while longer. He lingers over the curves of her sides, the place where her hips swell out from the softness of her waist. He memorizes the softness of her belly. He’s not normally allowed to touch her there, unless he’s teased her beyond her inhibitions like he managed tonight. It’s just a little pouch, a tiny little bulge, and he finds it strangely erotic, mostly because it’s forbidden. She’s especially soft there, when she lets him touch it, her skin beyond anything he’s ever felt. The books describe it like satin, but she’s softer than any fabric he’s ever felt. She’s soft in a way that’s sacred, so soft that it makes him reverent and somehow melancholy. The feel of her skin just there is like the complete difference between a man and a woman summed up.

The pubic hair beneath her belly is still slightly damp, and he grins in a masculine sort of pride. He’s been there, he did that. He made her hot and wet and needy. His eyes trace over the slight ridges and patterns made by her scars. He’s not usually allowed to touch her there, either, but tonight she’d allowed his fingers and mouth to roam wherever they pleased. His eyes too, come to think of it.

“Are you just going to stand there all night?” She mumbles sleepily, sweetly. She’s different like this, soft and vulnerable and dreamy. She’s the perfect amalgam of femininity right after sex, all tenderness and smooth skin. Her eyes are still closed, so she must have just sensed him standing there ogling.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says through a smile, and it comes out worshipful and awed. He supposes that if she can be so exposed, so can he.

He gives in to the need to touch her, since she knows he’s there. He runs his fingertips over the waterfall of hair on the pillow, smoothes them over the length of her neck, then rests them on her cheek as he bends over her to kiss her upside down. She murmurs softly, arches her neck to meet his seeking lips, moans a little when his tongue presses in. He loves this too, she’s so sensitive after she’s come hard like that, and every little touch earns a moan.

He clambers into the bed to lie next to her, head propped on an elbow, and she’s so blissed out that she doesn’t even move, except to murmur little encouragements when his hands travel over her skin again. He traces the paper thin skin of her breasts with his palm, nuzzles his nose against her ear and cheekbone, skates his fingers carefully over her belly. When she doesn’t move away or give any signal besides another aching moan, he grows bolder and allows his hands to explore the small protrusion of flesh, to skim the area where he belly meets her pubic bone. She moans as if this too is bringing her pleasure, as if the feeling of his hands on her could ever be as wonderful as the feeling of her skin beneath his touch.

He leans over to kiss along the suppleness of her stomach, and she hums. He can feel the vibrations beneath his lips, and he smiles. He begins to trace his fingers through her pubic hair, and this is when she finally moves, shifts her hips from beneath his questing touch.

“No more.” She says, and he glances at her to see her eyes still closed and her lips curled into a gentle smile. “I’m so sensitive… keep it up and I’ll have to have you make me come again.”

He chuckles against her skin, rests his head on her stomach to feel the rise and fall of her breath. She moves a little so that she can card her fingers through his hair, and he wants to purr in pleasure like a cat, it feels so good. He can hear her heart thrumming evenly in her chest, and he allows himself the fantasy that it’s beating out his name over and over again.

They lie together like this for a while, until he feels the heavy dreaminess descend upon him like a fog. He’s so comfortable here, so perfectly quietly happy that he can feel the world drift away. If only he could stay forever.

There are lots of wonderful moments with her, big ones and small ones that are lost to time before he even remembers that they’re good. But this, this- he thinks he’ll never ever forget the way it feels to get drowsy with his head on her stomach and her heartbeat in his ears.


End file.
